//------------------------------//
// Parental Pains 
// Story: A Pup Named Fenrir 
// by MisterEdd 
//------------------------------//

The Everfree Forest was an endless labyrinth of crooked, rotten timbers whose claw-like branches reached up towards the heavens and blocked out the sun, leaving the space between the trees a curtain of pure pitch blackness. I wasn't certain as to what it was exactly that I was fleeing from, only that I was completely terrified beyond all rational thought. No matter how fast I ran, no matter the leagues that I traveled, the terrain remained consistent. Above me, the starless blackness was alive, violently squirming and gnashing its invisible teeth within the tar-colored depths. Despite my immense size, I was somehow minuscule in comparison to the unfathomably gigantic trees, the ancient perennials appearing to seemingly go on forever.  

I finally stopped, but only because the burning in my lungs had become too overwhelming, my legs feeling as though they were brittle enough to snap into pieces if I took another step. In place of stars, a million eyes blinked in the darkness, all of them intently watching me, though if it was from curiosity or malice, I could not properly discern. The reason behind my fear was unknown but I was so consumed by it that I disregarded any notion of sense in favor of trying my hardest to avoid the source of my distress. 

"I dreamed a dream last night
of silk and fair furs,
of a pillow so deep and soft,
a peace with no disturbance..."

I recognized that song. It was one that I'd heard growing up. 

"And in the dream I saw
as though through a dirty window
the whole ill-fated human race,
a different fear upon each face..."

And that....that voice....

I began to involuntarily shake, and not from the cold but rather from the voice's familiarity. I knew for a fact that he was dead and yet here he was. Then again, this was a dream so anything was possible. So it was against my better judgment that I elected to follow the sound.  

"The number of their worries grow
and with them the number of their solutions—
but the answer is often a heavier burden,
even when the question hurts to bear..."

I happened upon a small clearing, where a small bonfire was crackling from within a ring of jagged stones. Shadows hopped around the bouncing flames like dancing revelers. I soon espied a lone figure sitting hunched over on a tree stump, whittling an arrow out of mistletoe with a black-bladed seax as he softly sang to himself:  

"As I was able to sleep just as well,
I thought that would be best—
to rest myself here on fine fur,
and forget everyone else."

He was a tall, lanky fellow wearing a dark red tunic with orange sleeves and striped yellow and red pants, the ensemble hanging loosely on his thin frame. Locks of short, curly strawberry-blonde hair peeked out from beneath the red cap haphazardly perched atop his head, a frayed pheasant's feather sewn into the left side with golden thread. He possessed a long, narrow rodent-esque face with a large aquiline nose, deep cheekbones, and a pointed beard, a series of acid-burns decorating the flesh like wine stains. The scarred flesh around his lips were puckered from the needle and thread that'd once tightly bound the lips together, courtesy of the dwarfish blacksmith Brokkr. It just went to show that you should never enter a wager with a dwarf, especially one with a grudge against you. 

"Peace, if it is to be found, is where
one is furthest from the human noise—
and walling oneself around, can have a dream
of silk and fine furs..." 

The man stopped singing and raised his head, a pair of vibrant green eyes shimmering in the light of the bonfire like a salmon's scales. He then grinned from ear to ear, the cicatrices almost appearing to inflate.  

"Welcome, my son!" He cheered, theatrically raising his arms. "Oh, it has been ages!" 

"Not long enough, Loki," I groused.  

Slapping his thighs, Loki gave an over-the-top giggle that quickly descended into a full-on mad cackle. 

"You," He pointed with his seax. "You are hi-lar-ious! Oh, that barbarous wit!" 

Shoving his makeshift arrow and seax into the otter-skin satchel at his hip, Loki hopped off of the tree stump and clapped, the spindly digits wiggling against his cupped hands.  

"Then again, it's not surprising given who your father is."

I smiled savagely at him. "Oh, you mean the same father that allowed the Aesir to rip me from my mother's arms and force me to grow up in a place where I was in constant fear of being murdered in my sleep if I so much as looked at somebody the wrong way?" Loki's smile vanished. "Or do you mean the same father that stood by and did nothing as I was chained up and abandoned, spending centuries in isolation?"  

Loki raised his hands in a futile pacifying motion. 

"Now wait a minute-..."

"The father that never made time for me, who-who couldn't even be bothered to drop by for a conversation or to comfort me when I had a nightmare, which happened so frequently that I might as well have bought a timeshare."

"I might've-..."

I was baring my teeth now, every word punctuated with a snarl.

"You were never there when I needed you. Instead, you just slunk around Asgard like a diseased rat while your children suffered. As far as I'm concerned, you're nothing to me but the bastard that impregnated my mother." 

Loki's arms dropped to his sides, clearly caught off-guard by my sudden onslaught of pent-up anger. All of the humor had drained from his pale face, replaced by a surprising moue of depression that I'd never seen from him before in our few interactions. Not even a trace of his former bravado remained, calling into question the authenticity of his apparent sorrow and my own skepticism. He sighed ruefully, one pale hand reaching beneath his cap to tug at his unruly hair. Here he was, Loki Lie-smith, lost for words. 

"Fenrir, I..." He forced out a short farce of a chuckle. "I'm so sorry. I know you don't believe me and you have good reason not to but I regret what happened between us. You, Jörmungandr, Hel...you all got a raw deal and for that, I am truly sorry."  

Loki, as you can imagine, was quite the accomplished actor. After all, as the god of mischief and a shape-changing trickster, it was something of a prerequisite to be able to feign or exaggerate certain emotions. Even if the figure standing before me was nothing more than a projection of my own unresolved paternal issues, I was seriously doubting the senior jotann's sincerity, or his attempt at it. I hated the fact that he was inside my head at all; that just demonstrated that despite my well-deserved animosity towards the Playing Man, I still desired some sort of relationship with Loki in order to fill the father-sized hole in my heart.   

And that more than anything pissed me off. 

"Look, I don't care that you're not even the real Loki. I just want you gone."

Loki's impish grin returned. "You can't get rid of me, Hróðvitnir. I'm a part of you, just as you are a part of me. No matter how much you want and try to deny it, you are my son. I may've failed you in your previous life but from now on, whether you like it or not, I will be here for you..."


I groaned and rolled over, gradually peeling my eyes open. 

"Shit..."

Well, it looked as though Not-Loki was going to be sticking around for quite some time. This made me wonder what other ghosts from my past were going to emerge in my dreams and haunt me for the foreseeable future. Would Tyr show up and wave his bloodied stump in my face, blaming me for crippling the greatest swordsman in the Nine Realms? Or how about Thor, Odin, or that idiot stable boy who thought that it was a good idea to provoke a jotunnulfr? I only hoped that Twilight had some sort of spell to fix my head and quiet the storm of emotions that raged within it.  

Hissing slightly, I noted that there was a kind of tender pressure on my chest and sides, almost as if a great weight had been placed onto those areas. It only worsened when I rose to my paws but I reasoned this was simply due to my body adjusting to my new sleeping arrangement. Throwing off the quilt, I stepped off of my bed and arched my back, my jaws opened wide for a protracted yawn before I promptly snapped them shut. Stretching out a few kinks in my limbs, I wiggled each of my toes and made my way towards the exit. 

Four-and-half weeks had passed since the carnival and things were looking up, despite the rather ominous reading, courtesy of the enigmatic Madame Tarocchi. Applejack built me a new doghouse to accommodate my size, making it the size of a small barn. Two queen-sized mattresses were placed side-by-side to create a bed and Granny Smith went through the trouble of crafting a new quilt, one large enough to cover up at least nine ponies. There was even a reading nook, consisting of a bookshelf, a magically-expanded sofa and a hanging wall lantern with a dial big enough to be turned by paw without breaking it. I was filled with immense pride when I first glimpsed my new abode, so much so that I may or may not have squeezed out some tears of joy at the sight.   

Keep this information to yourself. 

Things were pretty normal, little in the way of "interesting" actually occurring, which was slightly disappointing considering the stories I'd heard from the six mares of monsters and villains. No, instead, my days were mostly spent either at Sweet Apple Acres bucking particularly large and stubborn trees, or visiting the Castle of Friendship, where I borrowed new books to read and took magic lessons from Twilight. Despite the growing ennui, or perhaps because of it, I found myself in a rather good mood. In my more savage days, I would've been bored to death by the monotony of ordinary existence but after the chimera attack and my subsequent recovery, I figured that I'd had enough excitement and was simply grateful for the life I'd been gifted. Hey, it beats being chained up in a field with a sword propping up open my mouth, that's for certain. 

"Good morning, Angel."

The white rabbit was lounging on the cottage's front lawn, taking in the sun's rays.

"Morning, Fen!" He greeted me in an equally cordial tone. "Did your mom show up?"

He was, of course, alluding to the dreams about Angrboða, to which I shook my head. I hadn't "seen" her in weeks, something I found to be a little troubling. Where had she gone and was it a coincidence that she'd vanished and my father had occupied her space? What's more was that I strangely wasn't really that broken up about it, almost viewing the giantess as a visitor rather than my mother.      

"No, but my father did." 

"Oh, erm, F-floki?" 

"Loki. He pretty much just popped in to say hi and annoy me." 

Angel snorted, "Yeah, that's pretty much what dads do." 

Huh. Yeaaaah, I was definitely not going to like this. 

Bidding the rabbit farewell, I passed the cottage's right side and made my way to the backyard. The multitudinous fauna that gathered daily around Fluttershy's abode were all well-accustomed to my presence by now so no one paid my entrance any mind. You know, I'd derived immense pleasure at seeing living beings tremble before the very sight of me, shivering with delight as the scent of their fear-and in many cases, the stench of their loosened bowels-reached my nostrils. Now, however, I found myself content with being just another quadrupedal member of Fluttershy's very large extended family. The ponies barely even batted an eye whenever I appeared in public and I was fine with that.  

By this point, I was too large to actually enter the cottage, now standing tall enough to where ponies could barely touch my elbows. I spotted Fluttershy taking some sort of casserole out of the oven, merrily humming a little tune to herself that I could not place yet loved all the same. 

On a small hill overlooking Járnviðr, I sat with my siblings Hel and Jörmungandr, the latter coiled up in the former's lap as she caressed the top of his scaled head. Were it not for the bifurcated, corpse-like half-face and the gloomy disposition, I'd say that Hel just might grow into a fine young lady. Meanwhile, my brother was hissing in contentment, the tip of his tail curling and swaying like that of a pussycat's. Angrboða had my head positioned on her lower legs, her talon-like nails combing through the back of my neck, withers and dewlap. Her eyes had a vacant look about them, as though she were gazing far away at a foreign object or towards a future that only she could perceive.  

"In vast yards of bone, in vast seas of blood
Torn mortal corpses like ships will float
When you make a meal of the All-Father
And Surtr burns down the whole of Asgard..."

I gave my head a brief shake. My mother-Angrboða-used to sing to me but I didn't recall it ever sounding as macabre as this. Was there something that I was missing?

"Hey Mother," I said cheerfully to Fluttershy. 

"Good morning, Fen," she replied in kind. "Would you like me to whip you something up for breakfast?" 

Fluttershy knew full well that I was more than capable of hunting my own meals but she still insisted on feeding me from time to time. I guess the maternal instinct is one that is hard to shake, even for a pegasus and her wolf-son. I hummed for a moment, weighing my options against my grown-up pride, then finally nodded in affirmation. 

"Okay, but could you pack it up? I have magic lessons with Twilight so I can eat it on the way." 

"Sausage it is!" 

As Fluttershy prepared my meal-to-go, I took a moment to read up on The Count of Mountie Cristo, having already finished White Fang a few days ago. Twilight was right; White Fang did have a happy ending after all. After being forced into a lucrative career as a fighting dog, at least lucrative for his owner, White Fang is rescued and taken to a farm to live, where he and a bitch have a litter of pups and he spends his days being treated with love and respect by his new owner. I was nearly running around cheering by the time of the novel's conclusion and may've let out an audible whoop when I read the last sentence. Unlike Frankenstag, I loved White Fang and would be sure to give it a glowing recommendation when I returned it to Twilight.  

Packing my breakfast into a brown paper bag, the steam from the cooked sausage enveloping the bag in an aura of deliciousness, Fluttershy packed it into my saddlebag and kissed me on the cheek. 

"Have a good day!"

"Bye, Mother! Don't let Angel be a pest!" 

"Hey, who're you calling a pest?!" The rabbit shot back from the living room. 

"Read the room, big ears!" 

Ignoring Angel's vehement retorts, I trotted towards town, the various ponies stopping to greet me. Carrot Top was trying to compete with the Apples by raising the prices of her produce, insisting that the quality spoke for itself though I was doubtful and told her as much. She responded that I knew nothing about "business theory" or "inflation" so I left it at that. Time Turner and Derpy frantically entered town and asked about the specific date, the pair having evidently been accidentally propelled into the future by their magic blue box. Apparently, they were raving about a giant thunderstorm over Canterlot, a sleeping god, a dragon invasion and someone named "Silver Tongue" being at the center of it all but when pressed for details, Time Turner became rather tight-lipped about the whole thing and said something about upholding the "integrity of space-time".  

Well, you can never call Ponyville "boring". 

I was then met by Lyra Heartstrings, who still learned nothing about personal boundaries. 

"Hi there, Fenrir! See any humans lately?" 

I nudged her chest with a paw in order to put some much-needed distance between us.

"No, I'm afraid not-..."

"Derpy said something about seeing an actual human! Or rather, a humanoid. Well, that's still something, right? She said that he was really tall and red-haired and covered in tattoos! Wow, a human male with epidermic body modifications! Sounds hot!" 

"I'm sure that it does," I managed through my teeth. "Why don't you go see Time Turner? He might be able to tell you more since he can corroborate Derpy's story."

Lyra gasped, slapping her hooves to her cheeks. "You're right! Who knows what additional details he's got locked up in that head of his? Thanks, Fenrir! I'll let you know what I find!" 

"Please don't..."

Mercifully, she almost immediately raced away in the opposite direction, calling Time Turner's name. I was so relieved that she was out of my hair that I didn't bother to tell her that Time Turner was last spotted at Sugarcube Corner. Oh well. She'd discover it eventually, if Time Turner and Derpy didn't take off again and wind up getting stuck inside of a black hole or something. It was all wibbly-wobbly timey wimey gobbledygook to me.    

The Friendship Castle soon came into view and I was eager to begin today's magic lessons. Admittedly, I felt a tad disheartened due to being so behind in the subject. I was still only learning the basics of telekinesis, which unicorn foals started around the age of four or five and I was a year old, technically meaning that I was a teenager. As you can imagine, this didn't help me feel any better, despite Twilight's assurances that it didn't matter and that my training was coming along nicely. Before, I could barely lift a book but now, however, I could move ponies with ease, something that Pinkie Pie learned the hard way when she surprised me during a lesson and I accidentally tossed her into a wall.  

Thank the gods that mare is...well, Pinkie. 

I soon arrived at the castle and pounded a paw on the giant crystalline door. True, although I was told that I was welcome to come in at any time, it seemed more polite to knock first rather than to intrude into my friend's residence. Finally, the door opened but instead of Spike, Twilight herself answered. 

"Hello Fenrir! I'm so glad to see you!"

Puzzled, I peered past her shoulder. "Um, not that it isn't nice to see you too, but where is Spike?" 

"Oh, he's helping Rarity and Sweetie Belle look for gems."

Yes, I remembered the adorable crush that the diminutive dragon had on Rarity, following her around like a puppy (yes, I'm well aware of the irony of that statement) and performing tasks just to appease the white unicorn. Clearly, the feelings were one-sided and it was slightly concerning how she blatantly exploited his rather obvious infatuation to put him to work, a tactic she used on pony stallions as well. I then thought of Sweetie Belle and idly wondered what would happen if Spike shifted his focus from one sister to the other before cutting loose that line of thought. When it came to matters of the heart, I was completely clueless and seeing as how the only romantic relationship I'd ever had was my current one with Winona, I really couldn't properly comment on the situation.  

"I see. Anyway, I am ready for today's lesson-..."

Have you ever jumped into a river and felt yourself thrashed about by its raging torrents? That's the closest approximation I can make to being teleported. One minute, we were chit-chatting at the front door, the next minute, we were in the castle's library. Aside from some slight dizziness, popping in my ears, and some minor prickling numbness in my extremities, I was otherwise unaffected by the sudden spatial displacement spell. Somewhat annoyed by the unauthorized teleportation, but physically in tip-top shape.   

Twilight, meanwhile, was oblivious to my irritation, instead preparing a wheeled chalkboard and magically stacking several books. As she spat out words in an overly excited and frenetic manner that would make Pinkie Pie blush, a magenta-wrapped piece of chalk hastily scribbled out a series of sigils, magic circles and formulae that went so far over my head they passed the sun.     

"I'm extremely excited for today's lesson! So far, your psychokinetic capabilities are coming along at quite a remarkable pace considering that we've essentially packed a few years of study into a few weeks! Now it's time to expand your education and to that end, we're going to try enhancing your thaumaturgical skills in other fields. Today, we're going to start with transmutation and transmogrification, which concern the corporeal alteration of solid matter, both organic and inorganic, at a molecular level. Sure, they're a little advanced for someone of your age and species but I have the utmost confidence in your magical and academic capabilities!" 

Using a simple two-foot wooden rod, Angrboða drew a stave into the dirt. 

"This,"  she pointed out to my siblings and myself. "Is a very powerful stave, capable of summoning the different vættir of the land and water. Do not forget, however, that despite the conjurer's command over them, you are not to speak to them in a disrespectful tone."

I, however, wasn't listening. Instead, I was sitting hunched over with my back to my mother, completely engrossed by the butterfly sitting on the blade of grass in front of me. It was small and fuzzy, with iridescent violet-blue wings and striped antennae. How could something so frail and weak live so freely, so unconcerned with the natural disorder of the world? It could very well easily become ensnared in a spider's web or plucked out of the air by a predator yet here it was, relaxing on the grass, enjoying the gentle breeze and fresh air even as something as big as like me was mere inches away.    

The air whistled, followed by a hard smack on the back of my head, causing me to jump as little stars pervaded my vision. I yipped in shock, the pain racing through my skull. Tears filling my eyes, I soon turned around to find Angrboða glaring at me, the cat-like pupils narrowed into thin slits.

"Fenrir, am I wrong in concluding that I am somehow unworthy of your attention?"

"N-no, Mother. I'm sorry, I just got distracted-..."

"I am trying to impart the wisdom that I have gathered through decades of toil and you merely 'got distracted'. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?" 

"I'm sorry, Mother," I sniffled, trying so hard to keep from crying.

From behind her veil of tangled black locks, Hel was smiling devilishly at me while Jormungandr was biting his tail to stifle a cruel snicker. Angrboða continued to glower at me, her lips tightly pressed together in a sour expression. At that moment, I didn't feel like a powerful wolf that would one day help to bring about the end of all creation and slay the All-Father. No, I was just a bad pup that hurt his mother's feelings. 

"You don't realize the severity of what is to come, Fenrir Lokisson. Do you think this is just a game? There is a great conflict advancing towards us, like a rushing river that will sweep aside everything in its path!" 

Angrboða's left arm cut through the air to emphasize her point.

"You must be ready, you must all be ready for Ragnarok. This will be it, the final battle between your kin, your family, and those contemptible bastards in Asgard and Vanaheim."

She shoved a forefinger into my face, the nail like the claw of a great beast.

"I suggest you toss away silly notions of fun and butterflies and concentrate on what matters."

"I'm sorry, Mother," I whispered.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

I realized that I'd spoken aloud. Twilight was fixing me with a queer expression. 

"Fen, are you okay? You look spooked."

"Could I step outside real quick? I-I need some fresh air."

Without giving Twilight time to answer, I sped out of the library, sliding along the floor and almost colliding with a wall. Righting myself, I scampered through the shining hallways until I mercifully found the front doors. I took a moment to regain control of my breathing, my heart racing faster than Sleipnir on a twenty-four-hour sugar-high. I'm sure that if I possessed sweat glands, my fur would be completely soaked. My breaths came out in fierce, painful bursts that soon quieted and slowed until the aching in my chest and throat steadily went away, leaving me much calmer than I was a millisecond ago.   

Exiting the castle, I wove my way through Ponyville until I found a spot in the park near the small white bridge. All around me, ponies laughed, chatted, and played, unaware of the inner turmoil within me. They were like the butterfly I saw as a pup, completely unconcerned with the dangers of the outside world, either intentionally or unintentionally. They didn't care about malice or grudges, just the beauty of day-today life and all of the opportunities that it held. If I'd been born here as a pony, would I share their lackadaisical views or would my soul still recognize itself?  

"Excuse me, but could I please sit there?" 

An elderly unicorn motioned towards the bench I'd planted myself in front of.

"Of course," I said and moved so that he could sink into it. 

"Thank you."

I may not have been the most observant when it came to Ponyville's population but I didn't recognize the old geezer's appearance or smell. He was a dark gray-blue in color with a smoky gray tail and mane, both of which were straight and worn long like Fluttershy's and a long dark gray beard dominating his face. A well-worn charcoal-gray hooded cloak obscured his cutie mark, making any guess on my part as to his name or trade virtually impossible though judging by his chipped and mud-speckled hooves, he was evidently a traveler or vagabond. The unicorn turned his ashwood walking stick in his hooves, pushing up the thick dirt beneath the bench. The most interesting thing about the stranger was his eyes, a near-transparent blue-gray with little specks of copper-red in the irises.    

"Who are you?"

"Grey Beard," the old stallion simply replied.

"You're not from around here."

"No, just passing through. I like to travel."

You're going to be fun to engage in conversation with.

"So, you don't seem particularly surprised to see something like me," I noticed.

The old stallion, Grey Beard, kept looking ahead. "When you reach my age, you stop being surprised." 

I, too, faced forward, having given up talking and instead watching a young couple fly a kite.

"What's wrong, Mr. Wolf? You look so sad."

Grey Beard's gaze was now directed towards me. His facial muscles were relaxed, his visage one of benevolence and serenity, as though he was certain that nothing in Equestria could hurt him. And you know what? I believed that too. 

"It's nothing."

"Can't be 'nothing' if it's bothering you. Come now, let it out."

I didn't know anything about this pony other than his name, his dislike of long sentences and his nosiness. Yet, looking into his blue-gray eyes, I could tell that he genuinely cared and wanted to help me unload my woes. An unexplainable wave of calmness washed over me and for reasons I cannot accurately delve into, I wanted to bear my soul to this perfect stranger. Heaving a deep sigh, I turned my whole body so I could comfortably face Grey Beard. 

"I had a dream about my father, someone who was largely absent from my life. In it, he apologized to me and told me that he wanted to make up for his past mistakes."

Grey Beard nodded but said nothing.

"Then, I had a...memory, a forgotten memory, about my mother. Apparently, she wasn't who I thought she was, who I remembered her to be. I'm just so confused and I don't know what to do about it."

Again, Grey Beard nodded, a hoof lightly combing through his facial hair.

"You know, I'm a father myself. Yes, sir, many sons. There was one son whom I loved dearly and who was taken from me too soon."

He closed his eyes, as though reliving that terrible day. 

"I'm sorry," I replied gently.

The old stallion reopened his eyes and smiled softly. "Thank you kindly. Anyway, you can't imagine the pain that comes with losing a son. I don't know you or your father but I can tell you this: all fathers, in their own way, love their sons. Some know it the instant their son is born, while others take a whole lifetime to realize this simple truth. I think that your father, despite all of his faults, loved you as well. Perhaps this dream was trying to tell you something." 

"What?"

Grey Beard grunted, wobbly rising to his hooves. "I'm afraid that's not for me to say, young Master Wolf. What I can tell you is that the past is a storm-cloud hanging over all our heads and it is up to us whether we stand under the rain or we find an umbrella."     

He gave me another gentle smile. "It was nice talking to you. Perhaps you too will find a way to weather the storm. After all, as terrible as it may rain, eventually, it will pass and the sun will shine that much brighter." 

You are no doubt thinking that I chased the old coot down and demanded that he explain himself. In any other circumstance, you would've been correct but beyond my own comprehension, I just let him go. Yes, that's right. I watched him amble down the dirt road heading out of town, the other ponies giving no indication of his presence other than to let him pass them by. When I'd finally regained my wits and decided to go after him, Grey Beard had already passed from sight.